THE THUNDER OF SINAI

Dominion, Volume 12, Issue 57, 2 December 1918, Page 5

THE THUNDER OF SINAI

A PURPLE PATCH FROM THE NEW

ZEALAND FRONT

WAITING FOR THE RAIN

Watching an abortive thunderstorm tho other evening seenied to turn a. page in my memory. The foreground of Wtle red-brick houses and dull, smoky trees jn iron cages along the paved street! all seemed to vanish, and 1 saw instead the end of a long valley between two vast ridges of sand, ail dolled with black patches of camel-scrub. In the bottom of the valley tho horses of a squadron of New Zealand cavalry, just back from'watering, were pawing and snorting in tho picket-lines, eagerly awaiting their nose-bags. The slope of the opposite sand-ridge was irrcgmarly broken by the improvised shelters of the troopers, whose voices came pleasantly across to us as we all sat or lay about, thankful for the copl of sunset after the long desert day. A few fires twinkled under fho boiling dixies.' and in the quickly rushing dusk of tho East even a struck match on the "hillside gleamed cheerfully and seemed to throb as the striker sucked at his pipe. On the skylino where the converging ridges closed the valley was a post with a house on it; a trigonometric point corresponding with tho trench-mark on the artillery map labelled "Hill 157." Pour and a half miles beyond that a party of Turks were encamped at Bir-el-Mazar. A pleasant, contented sound of munching came from our own horse-lines close by, and beyond them the camels babbled and growled their secular grievance against life, while their drivers argued, apparently in a dialect of the same language. There was animated talk among tho men round our cookhouse fire. We were all cheery because tho ration camels had come up that day, and we were going to have a hot supper, and for us some good Samaritan hud sent a bottle of whisky. Our batmen placed the opened tins on a blanket spread on the sand. There was a loaf of fresh bread and a tin of "plum and apple." It was a welcome feast to appetites wearied of the dull neutrality of bully beef and biscuit and dixie tea. .It was "Lights out" at' seven, and "Stand to" at i a.m., on account of snipers and tho possibility of being "driven in," and as we were having a final cigarette suddenly a few big drops of rain splashed down, and a breeze hummed in the'camel-scrub.

Looking up, .we saw the sky had become magically overcast. There was a bustle among the men making for their shelters and "rugging up" the horses. The camels redoubled their complaints. 'Guess it's really coming this time," wo agreed.

Every night for several nights thunder had growled around the horizon, and invisible flashes had lit up vast pillars of white cloud, enormously remote. But no. storm had come within striking distance of us. My two colleagues, young R.E. subalterns, shared a shelter made of blankets, under which during the chilly autumn nights two human bodies could generate a most splendid "frowst." Possessing an extra ground-sheet, I slept in the open about forty yards away. The thought of this solitary camp in the rain was dismal to me, and I gladly accepted an invitation to share a. shelter for a time while my batman sjjnred my belonging under the second groundsheet. My companions somehow nestled into their places while I crouched between them, the tilt of the blanket uncomfortably rubbing the top of my head. So we remained listening to the spitting of the rain on the stretched blankets and the soft sand outside, and watching the flicker of the still distant lightning, which alone made the darkness visible. We spoke in low tones of trivial things, as men are apt to do for comfort when Nature is -oppressive. Then suddenly the rain ceased. The sky was mysteriously cleared, and the stars again assembled in their places. _ I bade good-night and crept shudder.ingly across the sand to my bivouac, which was hard to find in the darkness. By the faint light of the stars and the slight crescent cf a waning moon and the flicker of the lightning, I emptied the little pools of rain that had collected on the ground-sheet covering my bed and timorously crept between "the'blan•s" «,& . plllow ' vas a sandbag etuffsd. with tibbin," or chopped fodder, and I jay on my back watching the sky, not hoping- for sleep. Right overhead was the glorious cross of Cygnus, and near m a d T*„ empty space in thci Milkv Way. In that clear Eastern sky it seemS? a '.i ?. c , k abyss so awful in ils depth that it filled the mind with a nameless terror of space. One turned for comfort to the calm, familiar majesty of Orion and the brilliant gleam of the Scorpion with its topaz heart, still visible in the south-east-Then looking to the west I saw a vast and awful shape of cloud with clear-cut edges, cleaving its way to the zenith. If spread, like an enormous fan, blotting out tno constellations one by one. The lightning played .across its mighty bosom, and a muttering of thunder camo as though from a throbbing heart within it. It looked quite solid, and I thought "If it readies that star there it will surely [all, and then-—." A flock of nightbirds passed, flying low and swift; I could hear their quills beating the air, and tlioy cried to each other as though alarmed. Then there oame a sound of men laughing in a bivouac across tho valley, and tho spell was broken. The cloud became a thunder-cloud and nothing more. I thought how extremely uncomfortable it would be if it broke in ram. I waited for the experience with a sort of anxious curiosity, and then I slept, jl awoke to find it 'still quite dark. 1 he.cloud had gone, and I was still dry. I was looking with amazement at an enormous pointed fiamo which rose from a distant sandhill on the west. Rapidly it grew less and less, and disappeared. I realised it was tho horn of the setting moon, and was disappointed to know 1 that it was still quite early. But 6leep comes easily under the skv, and I did not at all want to leave 'the delicious warmth of the blanlcets when my butman came, still in the dark, with my horse ready saddled for the inexorable "stand-to." _ Everything was wet and stiff and abominably cold. Not until dawn was established could we light tho fires to make tea. We had to walk the horses to keep them warm. I longed for the day. In the dim but quickly growing light I found myself shivering beside a young New Zealander. whose horso was trying to play the fool. "Rotten work this, waiting for the sun," I said. "Aye," he replied, "and then the blighted sun gets up and burns holes in you. Be quiet, damn you!" This waSj to the 1 hor'fs.—Fred. E. Wynne, in the "Manchester Guardian."